


The Sketchbook Mystery

by LemonKith



Category: Barenaked Ladies (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 06:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11800368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonKith/pseuds/LemonKith
Summary: Somebody ruined Kevin's sketchbook and won't own up, and ever since then a plague has been haunting the BNL touring crew.No one knows what's plaguing them, and more importantly the band aren't even sure that it's of this world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is set somewhere around the _Snacktime!_ era while Kevin is doing the sketches that become the _Snacktime!_ liner notes/book.
> 
> This is entirely meant to be just a bit of fun, but as it is real person fiction if anyone featured in this story or closely connected to them is uncomfortable with this please tell me and I'll take it down.

“You back there, Kev?”

“Yes.”

“We’re gonna play cards; you wanna join in?”

“No.”

“We opened some chips; do you want any?”

“No.”

“Do you mind if we move your jacket off one of the seats?”

“Strange. It’s not like you guys to care about the wellbeing of my possessions.”

“...Fin says we’ll be arriving in an hour.”

His head shaking, Ed returned to the other three Ladies in the front of the bus. They shared a sympathetic look with him at having to approach the Kevin’s lair but at least he’d come back with his head still on his shoulders.

“I don’t see why he’s still so bothered about it,” Tyler grumbled, shuffling the deck. “He takes pictures of them all anyway.”

“It was kind of a dick-move not owning up,” Ed said, trying to take Kevin’s side. “Though I don’t blame whoever it was for that now...” He cast another glance back to the peril he had just escaped from.

“There has to be some way to own up or appease him without getting killed,” Jim reasoned.

“I’m sure he’ll be over it soon anyway,” Steve said, picking up the cards Tyler had just dealt to him. “It was about time someone got into an irrational mood around here. They only last a week.”

“It’s _been_ most of a week,” Ed frowned at him. “And it’s getting worse.”

“Maybe Fin could break it to him, if someone owns up to Fin?” Jim was still trying for ideas.

“I don’t know why he doesn’t suspect Fin,” Tyler played his hand; “just because he found the thing doesn’t mean he didn’t wreck it.”

“You think Fin did it?” Steve asked.

“Let’s just be glad Kevin’s talking to someone,” Ed intervened. “I’m getting worried about him...”

“It’s just his sketchbook,” Tyler grumbled again.

“It’s important to him.”

“And he did most of those drawings for our next record too,” Jim added, showing himself on Ed’s side even if he was on Tyler’s team for the card game.

“He’s still making too big a deal out of it...” Steve muttered, finishing off this round of argument over Kevin’s ruined sketchbook.

Said ruin currently lay beside Kevin in the back area as he read. Even now the pages were stained and wavy, crinkled unusably from drying on a hotel radiator, Kevin was still keeping it close to him at all times. Since the day Fin had found it on the tour bus, lain in a puddle of Jim’s spilt energy drink with every single page soaked through, Kevin hadn’t said one single word that wasn’t functional or snippy to his bandmates. He knew it had to have been one of them; he was just waiting for the culprit to own up.

~#~

Another day. Another soundcheck. Another problem with the leads.

“Again?!” Ed cried at Fin.

“I tell you, if we’ve got mice stowing away, these are some damn clever mice.” Fin held up today’s problem, three cables that had been plugged together to form a complete loop.

It was easy enough to detach the cables from each other but, “No mouse did that,” Tyler said. “We’ve got a malignant roadie, that’s what.”

Fin shook his head. “We thought that. I’ve personally overseen everything with Tiny, checking every item before it goes on the bus and being the first one to see it off at the other end. Whatever did this,” He held up the cables again, “did this inside the storage hold.”

“Crazy, stowaway fan?” Steve suggested.

“Rats are pretty intelligent,” Ed said; “you might be able to train one to do that.”

“Who’d go to the bother of that?” Tyler asked.

“Crazy, non-stowaway fan,” Steve suggested again.

“Maybe it was one of those living ventriloquist dummies; they’d fit in the boxes pretty well.”

Everyone looked at Jim. He looked blank at what was wrong with his suggestion.

“Anyway,” Fin continued, “I’ve had it. Either we get these ‘mice’ or we get a cat.”

The four Ladies present, Kevin still sulking in his lair, looked at each other.

“Can we get a calico one?” Ed asked.

“No, no! One of those fancy white ones!” Steve insisted.

“White cats are all deaf,” Tyler told him.

“Are they?”

“Dogs are better at getting rats; can we get a dog?” Jim asked.

Fin just sighed.

~#~

It wasn’t just the cables.

The band, and only the band, found every pair of shoelaces on their shoes tied together every morning.

Catering said food was going missing, but strangely only sugary things.

The crew discovered the knobs on amplifiers were always being changed to random numbers and instruments mistuned to the point it had to be deliberate.

And Jim’s entire stash of energy drink had disappeared.

“Okay, this has gone past ‘mice’,” Jim announced. “Guys,” he said seriously, “we’re in poltergeist territory.”

“We haven’t got a ghost, Jim,” Ed said rationally.

“I think it’s Kevin,” Tyler suggested.

“Me too,” Steve agreed.

“Kevin?”

“Well, come on,” Steve gestured vaguely in another direction, wherever Kevin was instead of this current meeting, “he’s got a motive. He’s never with us so he’s got the opportunity. And has anyone else noticed _his_ laces are never tied together in the mornings?”

“What about the stuff going on in the storage hold while the buses are moving?” Jim countered. Although Kevin’s leads were also being tampered with Jim couldn’t, and didn’t, deny Kevin was escaping the other half of this current plague upon their travelling crew.

Steve shrugged at that. “Maybe he’s got an accomplice amongst the crew, his guitar tech- Or Fin.” He pointed demonstratively. “He still likes Fin. And Fin’s in the prime position to be doing that stuff if he’s the one checking.”

“Oh come on,” Ed cut in. “You’ve seen how much trouble this is causing everyone. Fin would never cause everyone this much trouble no matter what the reason was. And what reason would he have to be doing all this for Kevin’s sake anyway?”

“Guilt?” Tyler proposed. “I still think it was Fin that soaked his sketchbook.”

“If there is a rogue element, a ghost or mice or stowaway, it might have been them that spilt my drink and none of us,” Jim said. “It would explain why none of us owned up.”

“There’s no ghost!” Ed cut in again, shouting this time. “There’s no ghost or ventriloquist dummies or crazy, contortionist stowaways!” He looked around them all with a fierce look for even believing any of that. “Whatever this is, it has a scientific explanation and we will find it!”

“Or die trying,” Steve cheered cynically.

Ed just glared. “We’ll take possibilities one-by-one and rule them out. First, something like ‘mice’. Some small, potentially trainable creature. We’ll get some mousetraps and put them around our rooms and the buses.” He looked around for an objection.

“Why isn’t ruling out Fin the first option?” Tyler challenged. “All we’d need to do is spy on him or stick one of those electronic tagging systems on his leg.”

“I’m with Tyler,” Steve asserted. “I’ve always noticed Fin and Kevin get on really well. You know,” His voice dropped conspiratorially, “I’ve always thought Fin might be slamming it to Kevin; neither of them are married,” he pointed out as if that was evidence enough.

“They’re not sleeping together,” Jim said as if it was ridiculous.

“Ooh, jealous?” Tyler joined in.

Ed face-palmed while Steve enjoyed what he’d set off with a grin. The only sensible one here walked off to find the nearest shop selling mousetraps.


	2. Chapter 2

“To be fair, if they can tie shoelaces together we probably should have expected this,” Steve said, looking downwards.

“They didn’t even leave any crumbs,” Jim was crouched and sweeping his hand over the carpet in a search.

“I think ‘mice’ are ruled out,” Tyler decided, looking to Ed. “Can we rule out Fin next?”

Ed sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. All they had now was a bunch of disarmed mousetraps – Not set off; disarmed like a human would – that were out of their packet and therefore non-refundable. The gumdrops and chocolate they’d set as bait had completely disappeared too, snatched without a peep – They’d been out of Peeps – during the night.

Mice were out. Even Ed would accept that. “Okay, fine,” he exhaled. “We’ll stalk Fin and check it’s not him, or any of the other crew guys while we’re at it.”

With the traps disarmed in such a way, the four had shifted their assumptions to a human, or something with human-level sapience at least. Since that included most of their crew, they joked – And luckily none of the crew heard them – they started with full-on surveillance following the show that night.

Kevin left them to it, his stage-smile dropping the first step he took off-stage to be replaced by a short glare before disappearing off alone.

The remaining four hung around while the crew packed up instead of meet-and-greeting at the tour bus, citing having colds to their fans and wanting to solve the ‘mice’ problem to Fin. He let them in order to have four extra pairs of eyes on things, even letting Steve follow him around as he oversaw everything.

No one had seen anything though when they reconvened in the back of the tour bus that night over a torch. “It wasn’t Fin,” Steve reported first, almost disappointed to say so. “I never took my eyes off him and he didn’t do a thing. The way he saw everything onto the buses too, there’s no way anyone tampered with anything.”

The other three supplied similar reports on the rest of the crew, that no one had had the opportunity or their work had been thoroughly checked afterwards if they had.

“I did think I saw something at one point,” Jim mentioned during his report, “but I’m talking a tiny, mouse-sized thing so I was probably hallucinating from exhaustion.” With their four faces lit from below with one tiny torch, in the interests of not disturbing Kevin up front, Jim’s face looked skeletally gaunt and only emphasised his words.

Ed rolled the torch in his hands, thinking. “What kind of thing did you see? What kind of shape?”

Jim shrugged. “It was like... Like person-shaped, maybe? Except not a person. Or not human-shaped at least. It was upright when I saw it but then it disappeared round the side of a travel case. I couldn’t find anything when I looked.”

He gave a temple-scratch but otherwise Ed didn’t know what to say to that. It probably _was_ exhaustion but he so wanted it to be more, just to have a lead.

“So, unless they didn’t do it tonight because they knew we were watching,” Tyler continued, “we can rule out the crew.”

“I’m still wondering about our shoelaces,” Steve debated, staring downwards as the torch switched to speaking Morse code and Ed smacked it back into working order. “Someone would have to be on the bus or in our hotel rooms to be doing that.”

They hadn’t discussed their shoelaces yet, precisely because it meant thinking about that. “And catering,” Jim added. “Whatever’s doing this strikes at all times of the day. I still think a ghost is about the only explanation left, even if I don’t really believe in them.”

“If it was a ghost would it be coming out during the day?” Tyler posed.

“I don’t know; I don’t know how they work,” Jim answered.

“It’s **not** a ghost!” Ed insisted, growing frustrated now. “I don’t know what it could be but I do know that. I think the best thing to do now is go to sleep, see if the stuff is still messed up and if it is, come up with another plan.”

With it being late, and their torch nearly giving up a ghost of its own, the four trudged off to their bunks. They slept uneasily, knowing there was no way anything could have been tampered with tonight but somehow expecting it to be anyway.

~#~

Dismounting the bus next morning, the band and crew found everything just as messed up as it had been every day since this started.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m going crazy; I can’t take this,” Jim fell back against his seat, eyes closed. “I don’t even care what it is. I just want it to stop...”

“What if it doesn’t stop?” Steve posed, almost maliciously. “What if it continues next tour? Or off-tour even?”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

Ed sat scratching his temple again while Tyler, arms folded, glared at an innocent cushion that had done nothing but be sat on by Kevin earlier that morning. Watching this, Ed finally sighed. “You think it might be Kevin?”

“The shoelaces and messing with our stuff at least,” Tyler answered. “He’s on the bus with us to do it.”

“What about in hotel rooms?”

Tyler tried but he couldn’t answer that.

No one could. Past Jim’s suggestion of them all sleep-walking – “I feel whacked enough that I think I might be sleep-walking right now...” – nothing could explain a presence that got into all their hotel rooms at night to go through their stuff without waking them. People’s belongings got switched, had trash mixed in or their toiletry bags emptied out amongst their clothes. What could be doing that?

What could be doing all of this?

Ed held up a hand, counting off a finger for each thing: “Whatever this is, it’s able to get into our hotel rooms and onto the tour bus so it’s either someone we trust, or someone or something that can sneak in anyway.” Everyone nodded. “It has to be something strong enough to mess with cables and open the travel cases in the hold, but quiet enough to mess with our stuff at night without waking us. It stows away inside the travel hold without being found, or somehow avoids the eyes of both Fin and Tiny at either end. And it seems to be active all day long, based on catering and techs reporting stuff being tampered with after soundcheck.” Ed had a lot of fingers up when he looked down at his hand. “What in hell fits all those criteria?”

A blank was drawn all round. Unless every single member of the crew was in on some massive, elaborate prank – One that was long past funny and causing them more bother than the band – it didn’t seem likely any single member or small group could be doing this. Even Kevin couldn’t be doing all these different things at once.

They started to lean towards something they weren’t aware of then, something non-human like mice again. But whatever it was needed human-level sapience for some of the things that had happened; Ed found another finger for that. They couldn’t think of anything as smart as a human that wasn’t human, and actually existed.

The others were starting to come round to Jim’s earlier position now; this was getting troubling, to the point of creepy. That was only doubled by having a lack of a plan now with all original suspects debunked.

“...Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way then,” Ed said, breaking a long five minutes of fruitless, silent thought. “Instead of going after a suspect to all these things, let’s just find what’s doing one definitively. I thought of something when I was listing off all those characteristics,” He wiggled his fingers briefly. “Maybe it isn’t one thing doing all these different things; maybe it’s multiple things and just a coincidence they’re all happening at once, or someone’s using them as a cover to do the others.”

He was met with sceptical looks all round.

“All right, I don’t think it’s a coincidence either,” Ed admitted, “but how about we just solve one thing? Whatever it is seems to love tying our shoelaces together; let’s find out what’s doing that.”

“Solving the tech problems would be more useful,” Steve said, “but okay. What’s the plan, Stan?” He cracked a tired smile.

“Hmm...” Ed stroked his chin. “Let’s try four different things, a different plan each so we’re set whatever it is.”

The others agreed.

“This feels like one of those crappy _Home Alone_ sequels...” Tyler muttered as they got started on thinking up crazy plans that just might work. “What number are they even up to now?”

“I’m surprised anything even wants to get near Ty’s shoes this much,” Jim said. “Add ‘Doesn’t have a nose’ to the list, Ed.”

“Hey!”

“Children, children,” Steve calmed them down mockingly. “Well, it’s not like this whole thing is any less childish. I mean, shoelaces? It definitely feels like something Kevin would do.”

“Well, you can design your plan for him then,” Ed decided. “Whatever it is, we’re bound to catch it with this.”

~#~

Ed’s plan: Shoes placed on the highest shelf of the bus, inside a cupboard with a camera set running in the back corner.  
Result: Shoelaces left untied. Nothing caught on camera all night. One dead camera battery.

Steve’s plan: Shoes placed inside his bunk with him, laces tucked under his pillow. Bunk slider completely closed.  
Result: Laces pulled out from under pillow, tied together with Steve’s glasses tangled into them. Bunk slider still completely closed.

Jim’s plan: Cover Tyler’s shoelaces in the orange powder from some cheese puffs – “Hey! Why my shoes?!” – and follow the orange trail to the culprit in the morning.  
Result: Laces tied together. Cheese powder on laces undisturbed. No cheese powder trail leading away from the shoes or evidence of cheese powder anywhere else.

Tyler’s plan: Tie Jim’s shoes to the back of the bus just before setting off – “Those are brand new! All I did was cover your stinking, old ones in cheese powder!” – and see if whatever it is can get outside the bus while in motion at 60mph.  
Result: Shoes checked as soon as they dismounted the bus. Laces already tied together in order to tie the shoes onto the back of the bus. Tyler billed for a new pair of shoes.

Aside from Jim and Tyler now locked in a feud, all-round failure. The only things they could even attempt to claim having learnt was that it definitely had some serious sneaking powers and had somehow known Ed’s plans without opening the cupboard. It had known where all their shoes were hidden, actually.

“But no one was there with us when we made the plans,” Steve pointed out. “It was just the four of us.”

“Maybe we need to start looking within the four of us then,” Tyler said, shooting a quick but dirty glare at Jim.

Jim shot a longer one back.

“Guys,” Ed intervened, placing a hand on both shoulders. “Go get some space for a while. Steve and I will come up with a new plan, okay?”

That was fine by them. Steve might have grumbled a bit about being stuck behind but he couldn’t deny he wanted to get this solved already. They went off to find the nearest place that served coffee for some inspiration while Jim and Tyler went separate ways, Tyler to complain and interrogate Tiny about the whole thing, Jim to ask Fin to change his hotel rooming for tonight to someone except Tyler. Fin complied, switching Kevin to share with him while Kevin’s single room went to Tyler; with the mood Tiny stormed past in after his interrogation, no one was willing to share with Tyler tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

Kevin looked briefly surprised when Jim followed him into his hotel room that night but a quick flash of an identical room key and Kevin dropped back into neutral.

Neutral was an improvement on the frowns they’d been getting for the past couple of weeks; Jim decided to see how far it would go by mentioning why exactly he was sharing a room with Kevin instead of Tyler and why Tyler was now buying him a new pair of shoes the next time they had a rest day.

Kevin’s face had gone from neutral to a small smile by the time Jim finished the story. It seemed the sulking had worn itself out and Kevin stayed in the room after he had unpacked, sitting on his bed but not getting out a book or sketchbook. He was watching Jim finish his brief unpacking, wondering why Jim was checking everything, particularly the laces of his shoes, so closely. “...Everything okay?”

Jim stopped and looked up. Kevin apparently had no idea about everything that had been plaguing the band lately. But Kevin was finally talking to him again. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” Jim gave up on his luggage, moving around the bed to sit on the side closer to Kevin’s. “What about you?”

Kevin’s smile stayed but it changed slightly, sliding closer to sadness as he looked at the wall opposite him. It lost the edge as he turned back to Jim again, saying nothing.

Jim’s hands fidgeted slowly, clasped together above his knees. “Even if it wasn’t me, I’m still sorry about your sketchbook, Kev; I want to apologise to you simply because no one else has yet and that’s not right.” Kevin chuckled lightly from gratitude. “We cool?”

“Yeah, we cool, mon,” Kevin joked, overdoing the Rastafarian accent a bit. “I’m tired of not talking to anyone, to be honest. And I know it wasn’t you, Jim; you’re always honest with me.”

Jim nodded, glad. “The others are afraid of getting their head bitten off if anyone owns up so what if all four of us just collectively apologise together? Would that be okay?”

“Yeah, that’d be fine.” After a moment of thought, Kevin laughed. “I’ve been a real dick about this, haven’t I?”

“Well, so’s whoever didn’t own up. I think it was fair.”

“Are you annoyed about it?” Kevin asked. “It was your energy drink that got spilt after all.”

“Nah, I don’t mind,” Jim admitted. “It’s a pain the rest has gone missing. That wasn’t you, was it?” he jokingly accused.

“Me?” With a devious smile, Kevin lay back and stroked his bearded chin. “Maybe.” After they shared a laugh, “Do you think it was the same person who spilt it?”

Jim shrugged. “I don’t think so. All the stuff that’s been going on around here-”

“You mean with the cables and instruments getting mistuned?” Kevin knew about that part at least.

“Yeah. We don’t have a clue who’s doing all that.” Jim asked briefly but neither did Kevin. “The guys thought it might be you because you’re mad at us.”

“Mad? Maybe,” Kevin said. “Energetic enough to get up to all that mischief at my age?” He just laughed.

So did Jim. “Or they thought it might be Fin.”

“Fin?”

“You were still on good terms with him. Tyler said it was from guilt because he thinks Fin spilt my drink on your sketchbook,” Jim explained. “Steve said it’s because Fin’s secretly slamming it to you.” He grinned and waited on Kevin’s response.

At first there was brief shock and bewilderment but then Kevin schooled it into faux-frustration, “I knew we were too loud that other night.” He knew he had been too obviously slow and dropped the joke quickly, laughing at himself. “Fin and me, huh?” He was laid back on the bed, arms behind his head.

“Well, it does get lonely on the road.” Jim smirked suggestively.

Kevin saw the suggestive smirk and raised Jim undoing the top two buttons on his shirt. “Fin’s not really my type.”

“No?”

“No. I prefer someone more... ginger.” The third button on his shirt popped open.

Jim placed his hands on the edge of Kevin’s bed, crawling onto it. “You wouldn’t do it for the extra perks?”

Kevin scoffed. “I’m not a whore.” His fourth button fell open, exposing most of his chest.

Having crawled closer, Jim placed his hand on the exposed skin, little finger only millimetres from a nipple. “Not even if I pay you?”

They locked eyes, smiling a mix of suggestion and amusement.

“...Are we seriously playing gay chicken again?” Kevin asked incredulously.

“You’re the one who’s 17-20 down,” Jim said. “So long as you’re okay remaining the loser-”

Kevin’s hand went straight to Jim’s crotch, “Just try me,” and squeezed.

~#~

Now it was morning, Jim was lying in bed and the score was 18-20.

His head buried thoughtfully in his pillow, Jim stared at his suitcase across the room, wondering if he could summon the energy to go check his shoelaces. He dreaded finding them tied up again. He spared a thought to agonise over what state the cables would be in this morning. He shouldn’t have chickened out so early last night; Kevin had looked like he actually would have given him that blowjob.

Eventually Jim followed the Sun’s example and crept out of bed, moving to the spot beneath the cheap hotel curtains where his suitcase lay. In the soft light of morning, Jim pulled open the zip and pushed back the top flap, reaching inside for a pair of shoes. He picked one up. No second came out attached by the laces.

Smiling, Jim went back to bed.


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s Kevin,” Jim said.

“Oh, so now you think it _is_ Kevin?” Steve asked over the breakfast table.

“I made up with Kevin last night,” Jim explained. “My shoelaces and stuff were fine this morning.”

“How’d you make up with him?” Tyler asked, insinuating behind his snarky tone. He had been shoving the last of his bacon sandwich in to go sit at another table but Ed grabbed his arm, keeping Tyler in his seat.

“Correlation doesn’t equal causation, Jim,” Ed learnedly pointed out. “Though at this stage even I’ll settle for it.”

“I know, but I just get the feeling it was because I was nice to Kevin.”

“Lots of good things happen if you’re nice to Kevin,” Kevin himself joined them, sitting down beside Jim with a smile. “What are we talking about?”

“Are you tying everyone’s shoelaces together every night, Kev?” Steve asked.

“Shoelaces?” He looked around in bemusement.

After the shoelaces thing was explained Tyler and Jim’s shoe feud made a lot more sense. It also helped Kevin piece together what had been going on with the crew lately, and he could see why they thought it might have something to do with him. Fork buried in his eggs, Kevin swirled them round thoughtfully but they weren’t going to get any more scrambled. “Well, it’s not me,” he confirmed. “And I didn’t tell anyone to do it for me. I know I might be pretty liked round here but I don’t think anyone would take it upon themselves to avenge me that much.”

“Sleeping with anyone?” Tyler asked.

“Not tonight, if you want a turn on the Hearn.” After all the toast crusts and empty packets had been thrown at him, “All right, all right! Jeez...” Kevin sighed. “Have the crew been having their shoelaces tied together?” he asked.

They hadn’t, so far as the band knew.

“Huh. Well, it wasn’t happening to Fin when I roomed with him so...” Kevin frowned to give his brain more thinking power. ”Why just you? What would someone have against your shoes?”

“That’s why we thought it might have something to do with you, because you thought it was one of us that ruined your sketchbook,” Steve said.

“But why your shoes?” Kevin focussed. “You guys went looking for a motive for all this stuff but what about the crimes? Stuff like tying shoelaces together, messing with cables, stealing food – It’s all harmless,” he said. “Whatever or whoever it is could have been doing really bad stuff like unscrewing lighting rigs or destroying your stuff. Why harmless vandalism?”

The other Ladies looked at one another, seeing the point. “That’s why we thought it was you or Fin or someone,” Steve offered again. “You wouldn’t damage stuff.”

“No...” Kevin agreed. Now he had switched to stroking his beard. “And it didn’t affect Jim this morning after he apologised to me; I can certainly see why you’d think it was me.”

“But it couldn’t have been,” Ed said. “Not all those different things at once.”

Kevin nodded.

Their breakfasts were all done now. Today was a rest day, no one moving on to the next city until tomorrow. They decided to give the investigations a rest for the day and enjoy the respite. With any luck, now the four had collectively apologised to Kevin for his sketchbook, if Jim was right about that being the key, things might sort themselves out by the time they were back on a stage anyway.

~#~

The rest day over, the five Ladies assembled early on that evening’s stage the next morning.

“Who was it?” Fin demanded, brandishing a loose cable at them all.

The cable wasn’t plugged into another one or tied up in a big Gordian knot though. Did that mean- “Were the cables okay?” Ed asked.

“All fine,” Fin reported with a smile. A cheer went up from the band. “I meant who did it? Did you get the culprit?”

“No,” Ed admitted. “But all our stuff wasn’t tampered with overnight either. I think whatever it is has left us alone. And,” he said this more doubtfully, “I think it was because we apologised to Kevin.”

“Kevin?”

“It wasn’t me!” Kevin blurted out. “I didn’t tell anyone to do anything!”

Fin laughed. “I know it wasn’t you. I don’t think anyone likes you that excessively much either.”

“Steve thought it might have been you on Kevin’s behalf,” Jim decided to speak up. “Why don’t you tell him why, Steve?”

“Shut up.”

“All right,” Fin calmed the fighting down; this was a time for celebration after all. And a few more questions. “So you think it had something to do with Kevin?”

“It’s the connecting link,” Steve said.

“Then why’s food still going missing from catering?”

Silence fell, aside from Jim’s techie swearing in the distance as Grammah tried to fall over on him again.

“When?” Ed demanded once he’d processed that.

“All of yesterday, overnight and this morning,” Fin said.

Ed found the nearest thing he could kick. “Fuck!”

“Oh God, you mean there’s still something haunting us?!” Jim despaired.

“This wasn’t me either, I want to say before I get accused again,” Kevin added.

Fin had a show to set up and crew to supervise. He gave a shrug but had to walk off with the cable instead of stay to help. “You’re not done yet, guys.”

All five Ladies groaned.


	6. Chapter 6

Sat on travel cases, the four seated Ladies looked up as Jim returned. “Was it still just sweet stuff?” Ed asked.

Jim nodded. “Baked stuff, chocolate bars and candy.”

“Is this why catering hasn’t had anything sweet for me lately?” Kevin asked. “Because of the plague thing?”

Tyler looked at Kevin closely. “Sweet things; that’s another connection to Kev.”

“You’re right,” Steve agreed. Kevin swivelled like a mouse caught in a cat convention. “But we apologised to him. If it was, surely this would have stopped?”

“Maybe it’s because no one’s owned up?” Jim suggested. “That’s the only thing left.”

The four suspects shared looks. Kevin waited through them calmly.

“Owning up shouldn’t matter if it was just about making Kev happy again,” Ed eventually broke the stalemate. “You’re fine with things now, right, Kev?”

“Yeah. I don’t really care who did it anymore. If anything, I’d rather not know or it’d make me mad all over again.”

Ed looked around. “Well, since it seems to hear everything we say, maybe it’ll hear that and leave catering alone now.”

Doubtful looks were shared but without any other straws available to clutch at the Ladies shrugged and went with that one. It was nearly lunchtime so none of their brains were really into thinking any harder right now.

“...Why bother catering?” Kevin asked after a minute.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. Why’d they mess with everyone’s instruments?”

“No, it wasn’t everyone’s instruments, just yours,” Kevin said. “My techie told me the stuff I shared like leads was getting tampered with but not my instruments; that was about you too.”

The other four exchanged a troubled look about that. They hadn’t asked about his instruments, just known about the leads.

“So the stuff to do with you’s stopped,” Jim said.

“But then maybe I was right?” Ed proposed. “Maybe some of it is just a coincidence?”

Kevin shook his head. “I don’t think so. I might be wrong but I doubt whatever or whoever was doing all that is amongst the crew or us, right?” The others were reasonably willing to go along with that. “Well, if it wasn’t then it’d still need to eat, wouldn’t it? Maybe whatever it is hasn’t left yet so it needs to keep stealing food even though it’s not doing anything anymore!” Kevin held up a pointed finger, feeling successful in his deduction.

“So, a ghost that needs to eat?” Jim asked wryly.

“It’s not a ghost,” Ed repeated without enthusiasm this time.

“Mice though,” Steve said.

“Why only sweet stuff?” Ed asked. “Kev?” he tried when no one else came forward.

“Uh... I don’t know.” He shrugged sweetly himself. “Mice eat whatever they can find so it must be smarter. But humans need to eat more than just sugar-”

“You don’t,” Tyler teased.

“-so I guess it’s not human either.”

“Well, what do you think it is then?” Ed challenged, amused slightly.

Kevin looked at Jim. He thought about it for a moment. “...Giant invisible bees,” Kevin said decisively.

Jim slapped him on the back as they all laughed.

~#~

Three days later they’d remained free of vandalism but the food-snatching was still on-going. Catering had found whatever it is took a set amount of sweet food at regular intervals so it definitely had enough intelligence to know the size of its stomach. They tried the cheese powder trick Jim had come up with once more on some flapjacks but they were left untouched, perhaps not surprising with bright orange cheese powder on them. Kevin brushed it off and ate them up in the end.

Catering didn’t mind it so much now the issue could be controlled with a little extra baking or shopping but it still bothered Fin it was blowing through more of the budget; “It’s like we’ve got half a dozen extra people around to feed.”

“Not that many,” Steve pointed out. “Catering said it’s only about four plates’ worth a day.”

“Couldn’t four plates of sugar feed quite a few people though?” Tyler asked. “I think my kids could survive on that; they certainly would if they had the choice.”

“You think some of our kids stowed away?” Jim suggested, smiling about it. Better than ghosts after all. “I guess they would have phoned back home then though.”

“I don’t know with my boys...” Ed commented briefly.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Fin pinched his forehead, “will you guys get on and solve this one as well? It’s not like you’ve got anything else to do during the day that’s useful.”

Hands were placed on hips all round ready for an, “Oh! Oh, is that how it is?!”

“Not useful, are we?”

“Not standing around talking, no,” Fin said, ignoring the sarcasm. “Get going already, Scooby Gang.” He went to slap Kevin’s shoulder as he walked away but tiredness dropped his hand, ending up awkwardly patting Kevin’s lower back instead. Steve and Tyler shared a look.

Back to serious, “All right, what’s our first move this time?” Ed took leadership again.

“Ri ron’t row,” Kevin joked, grinning at his impression.

Planning was laid aside for the minute to first establish who was whom in the Scooby Gang – Was Jim Velma because he was quiet, or Shaggy because he was a lanky, stoned hippy? Or maybe Daphne because he was ginger and gorgeous, or so Jim claimed – “What were we trying to solve again?” Ed, dubbed the group’s Fred, said after 15 minutes of arguing over roles.

“Catering,” Steve, the bespectacled Velma of the group, reminded him.

“Oh right. Any ideas?”

“Lunch?” Tyler suggested, checking his phone. He may have had no similarities with Daphne, despite his claims, but they’d all agreed Daphne was the ‘drummer joke’ of the gang.

“Row rabout re-”

“Enough of that, Kev.”

“-How about we get catering to stop making sweet things and see what they take instead?” Kevin proposed.

That didn’t sound like a bad idea, was agreed all round. And since, as Tyler pointed out again, it was nearly lunchtime so where better to go?


	7. Chapter 7

Catering had nothing for them, not 15 minutes before lunch officially started at least. After getting playfully shouted at and harangued with ladles, catering agreed to try the plan and sent them on their way with some coffee to wait.

“So, if it starts eating other things we’ll know it’s something that needs to eat,” Ed theorised as he sipped from his mug, “and if it doesn’t then it was just sweet things, so probably a prank of some kind.”

“Or it’s something that can only eat sweet things,” Kevin added.

“Like?”

“Like... a hummingbird?” Kevin suggested. He’d taken some smoothie instead of coffee and had a cute, pink tinge to the beard above his mouth now.

“Hummingbirds can only suck nectar. And they need to eat all day long,” Jim, who apparently watched too many nature documentaries, told him.

“Well, back to giant invisible bees th- Ed?” Kevin stopped as Ed had done at the head of the group.

He was staring down at the bottom edge of the door out of the catering hall, completely still. “...Jim, you said you saw something like a tiny person once, right?”

“Yeah,” Jim answered, “but I was probably hallucinating.”

“Maybe I am too then. But maybe...” Ed started creeping towards the door, peering around. It took less than a second for him to be running off, the rest of the band rushing to follow down a corridor outside.

The corridor led nowhere, just to a dead-end room the crew were using to store spare, empty travel cases and unused leads. Ed was stood in the doorway when they got there. He held out his coffee cup towards Steve.

“Did you see where it went?” Steve asked as he took it.

Ed nodded silently, creeping forward towards some stacked travel cases on the right by the wall. There looked to be a tiny gap between two stacks, large enough for a small mouse to fit down. It was there Ed crouched, peering into the shadows between. He strained his vision, frowning at something he was obviously struggling to distinguish. Whatever he decided it was, he also decided it was worth getting out and placed one hand on the travel case to his left, the other poised to lunge in and grab the creature when he made his move.

The four at the door obediently held their breath.

Ed shifted his footing, tensed up his arms ready. Then, after a moment centring himself like some martial arts movie, shoved the left cases aside and lunged in with his right hand.

Only, he left arm didn’t shift all the travel cases, just the top one, and therefore ended up smashing his hand into the one still left in place, swearing loudly about it. He yelped too, making more snatching grabs wildly at the lefthand travel cases before recoiling with a second, “Fuck, ow!” They all saw the small, fast something disappear over the top of the lefthand travel cases, having used the arrangement and Ed’s arm as steps to jump up and climb over.

“Ed?” Steve asked, the four rushing in to help him.

“There _is_ something!” Ed exclaimed, looking at his hand not the direction the small something had disappeared in. “It bit me! Or pecked me maybe.” There was a little red mark on the back of his hand, barely more than a sharp bump really. “It was yellow with red legs.”

“Like a chicken?” Tyler asked.

“Chickens do sometimes beat people at checkers,” Kevin said.

“I wasn’t playing checkers with it,” Ed redundantly pointed out, rubbing his little injury. “It was smart; it knew I was watching and trying to get it.”

“Did it fly?” Kevin asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It jumped high for its size at least.”

“A big, yellow flea?” Kevin started musing. “Or a giant bee with red trousers on?” He suddenly noticed everyone else was moving, getting into position around the corner the small something had fled to. “Hey! Where’s my position, guys?”

“Just guard the door in case it gets past us,” Tyler said, his hockey-mindset kicking in.

Pouting a little about it, Kevin complied and waited on the others.

They didn’t know where the creature was hiding now amongst the coiled leads and scattered travel cases in the back corner of the room. They were trying to do a sweep-in check, looking between each case and in each coil as they slowly moved towards the corner. Kevin could see a few gaps in their formation from the door so readied himself, glad he might be needed after all.

The small, yellow something streaked out from one of those gaps suddenly just as expected, catching Jim’s eye who let out a shout and pointed to the door.

Kevin squared himself ready, preparing a takedown tackle before realising he’d never done a tackle before in his life, the thing was mouse-sized anyway and too close to tackle now anyway as it sprinted for the gap between his legs.

“Kevin!”

Kevin paralysed with indecision, caught between closing his legs or using them to dive for the creature. He did neither as it ran for his legs, stopping and-

Stopping and standing by his right shoe?

“Save me! Oh God, protect me from the Others! I pray to you every day, Lord Kevin! Please help me!”

Nothing else followed the squeaking voice aside from tiny, mouse-like wibbling as the little, yellow creature stood shaking by Kevin’s shoe, looking like it wanted to cling to it but not daring to.

The other four stood in silence, watching Kevin crouch down and see the small, yellow something for what it really was. “...Beakearn?”

The wibbling stopped, the little, yellow man raising his long, beak-shaped head to look at Kevin.

Since neither said any more, Kevin decided to place his hand down on the floor, a gesture that obviously encouraged the creature to climb on. Beakearn looked at the hand with a tiny gasp, then at Kevin and back-and-forth between the two a few times before daring to approach it. He lifted up one red leg and brushed his foot off before placing it on Kevin’s palm, then did the same to the other.

Kevin stood up, Beakearn staying balanced in his hand.

The other four came over. Kevin’s hand seemed to keep its passenger at ease as they crowded round, looking down at the discovery.

“...What’s that?” Tyler finally asked dubiously.

“It’s Beakearn,” Kevin said. “Or, at least, that’s what I call him in my head. I don’t know if- Is that your name?” he asked the creature.

“Of course! As you decided, Lord Kevin,” Beakearn replied.

“It’s the thing you showed us for the _Snacktime!_ cover,” Ed said as if that would help him process it.

“He’s not a thing,” Kevin insisted. “He’s a...” He rubbed his head with his spare hand. “What do you call yourselves?” Beakearn apologetically shrugged. “He’s one of my creations.”

“A hearnie?” Jim suggested with a smile.

“Hearnies,” Ed sniggered.

“A whole Hearnia of them,” Steve added.

Kevin rolled his eyes at the name-jokes. “What are you doing here, Beakearn? In my world, I mean.”

The other four stopped looking at Beakearn. They looked at Kevin, his blasé attitude supplanting Beakearn as the weirdest thing in the room.

“We came here to escape the flood, Lord Kevin. It opened the way to your world,” Beakearn answered.

“I guess you mean when Jim’s drink got spilt on your sketchbook,” Kevin assumed, smiling in amusement when he heard it put that way. “How did it let you come out here though? And you can stop calling me ‘Lord’; just call me ‘Kevin’.”

Beakearn pushed the tips of his yellow fingers together. “We couldn’t do that...”

“I want you to; you’re my friends.”

Beakearn shot up cartoonishly straight in surprise. Then he blushed, his cheeks coated with little, pink circles. He mumbled an incredibly miniscule, “K-Kevin...” to himself.

“They can blush?” Steve asked incredulously.

“Of course they can,” Kevin answered like it was obvious.

“E-Erm,” Beakearn began again, physically rubbing the blush from his face like it was paint, “we don’t really know why. The wall to your world just turned shimmery and soft all of a sudden and let us through. Since it was flooding inside we had to come here.”

“‘Shimmery and soft’?” Ed repeated to Kevin.

“Jim’s drink had all those ‘vitality’ and ‘lifeforce’ labels all over it,” Kevin replied. “I guess it worked on my hearnies and brought them to life!”

“...Seriously?”

“So all of you are out here?” Kevin turned back to Beakearn.

“Yes, though everyone’s elsewhere right now.” Beakearn started looking around from his high vantage point on Kevin’s palm. “Actually, Bluenin is always watching you, to make sure you’re safe.”

“Bluenin?” Kevin called for him, looking around too.

He didn’t notice where Bluenin suddenly flew down from over his left shoulder, a corner of the room maybe. Even with all the other four watching they barely noticed anything until the little blue, blob-headed man in orange and yellow with tiny wings landed on Kevin’s palm beside Beakearn. “I’m here.”

“You’ve been watching over me, have you?” Kevin’s lip curled into a smile.

Bluenin nodded, yawning. “We needed to know if you needed anything,” he explained helpfully.

“And you thought I needed you to tie everyone’s shoelaces together?” He was too amused by them to be mad about it.

Beakearn took on a frown, eyebrows suddenly appearing out of nowhere. “The Others were mistreating you. The Ed one should have apologised.”

Everyone stopped looking at Beakearn.

They all turned their glares on Ed.

“It was _you_?” Kevin growled.

“Does the phrase ‘dick-move’ seem familiar to you, Ed?” Steve asked.

“Or ‘collective apology’?” Jim added.

“I was going to!” Ed backed off and into a travel case. “But Kev came back so steaming furious after he found it that I didn’t want to- I was going to apologise when he’d calmed down a bit so it didn’t start a fight but then the moment just sort of... never came...”

Tyler saved his frustrated question for Beakearn. “If you knew it was Ed why’d you mess with all of us?”

Beakearn folded his arms, closing his eyes haughtily. “You should have tried harder to get the culprit to own up. And you’ve all been mean to Lo- Kevin for years anyway; you deserved it.”

Tyler frowned down at the little beak-man. “I wonder if you taste like chicken as well as looking like it.”

Beakearn startled, disappearing in a quivering mess again behind Bluenin, who would only have tasted like blueberry if anything. They were both saved when Kevin brought them closer to his chest. “You’re not eating them, Tyler! They probably taste like crayon wax anyway.” Casting one last scowl at Ed, who he’d deal with properly later, “Where are the rest of you now? Can I meet them?”

“Of course, L- Kevin,” Beakearn answered. “But you should have lunch first; you need to eat.”

Kevin chuckled and turned to go. “You guys do take good care of me. Do you want to hide in my pocket while I eat?”

The two hearnies enthusiastically agreed and the other four watched the two of them climb in Kevin’s jacket pocket as he left the room, heading back to the cafeteria room.  Left behind, and wondering if they were the sane ones or not, the other four Ladies looked at each other in question of what to do next.

“Lunch?” Tyler eventually suggested with a shrug.

“Sure,” Ed agreed, picking up his forgotten, now-cold cup. “I need to ask catering what they put in this coffee...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have no idea what Kevin calls his drawings, both collectively and individually. The name 'hearnies' seemed good for them as a whole, and then all their individual names are made up by me off the top of my head.


	8. Chapter 8

They couldn’t talk about anything else during lunch. But they also couldn’t talk about it during lunch, not in a room full of techies and crew, and catering still barely containing the simmering frustration over weeks of stolen food.

The other Ladies noticed Kevin drop his hand to his pocket a couple of times, with a lump of sweet food on it each time, and bring it back up empty. He was trying to be nonchalant about it, and failing badly, but the crew never paid any attention to Kevin being odd by now.

Once they were done eating the four followed Kevin who seemed to know where he was going. He stopped in a deserted bit of corridor to take the hearnies out of his pocket, while everyone else stood guard, and ask them where to go now.

“Guitil came while you were eating. He’s gathering everyone on the tour bus,” Beakearn said.

“Really? Wow! I didn’t even notice him!”

“He’s a faster flier than I am,” Bluenin said. “But he gets tired quicker.”

“I can’t wait to meet him, and everyone!” Kevin was practically humming. “You guys better go back in there for now though.” He put his hand back to his pocket, then walked off without even checking the other four Ladies were still with him.

They were though, and had some questions as they walked. “You know them all by name?” Ed asked.

“Well, yeah. I named them. You don’t forget your kids’ names, do you?”

“No but I have three of them, not three hundred.”

“What’s with the names anyway?” Tyler asked. “They’re kind of...” He trailed off, deciding he’d had enough Lilliputian revenge for a while.

“I like them!” Kevin said. “Oh wait, do you mean the method? They all end in -in, -il and –rn.”

“That’s not- What?” That just made Tyler more confused.

“Kev **in** Ne **il** Hea **rn** ,” Jim spoke up from the back of the group.

Kevin nodded proudly.

The others rolled their eyes about name-jokes this time.

The tour bus seemed empty when they finally reached it, climbing inside and locking the door behind them. They took seats in the main area, where it seemed most sensible to, and Kevin helped the two hearnies he had out of his pocket onto a tabletop.

That seemed to be the signal.

Everyone noticed movement out of the corners of their eyes, tiny creatures, none bigger than a juice carton, crawling out from shadows and gaps to converge on the central table. Some could fly and carried a few of the little ones up there. Others stacked themselves up and grabbed the edge of the table, the top one then helping the rest haul themselves up. Some simply jumped up, a leap of about two foot, onto the low coffee table.

There had to be a hundred of them, at least. All manner of creatures, some vaguely humanoid, some vaguely animal-like, some just geometric shapes or objects with faces. They all gathered on the tabletop facing Kevin, squabbling in tiny, high-pitched and slightly nasal voices that they couldn’t see or someone was stepping on their foot/flipper/tail/power cord/ooze trail – Delete as appropriate.

No one had a clue what to do except look at Kevin, including all the hearnies.

He looked as if he might be trying to count them. He was an idiot if he was. He eventually just scratched his nose, “Um... Hi.”

The tabletop responded with a cacophony of Hi!/It’s Lord Kevin!/Hello!/All praise Lord Kevin!/You’re still standing on my ooze trail.

Kevin was still scratching at his nose. “...Take me to your leader?” he joked.

“Leader?”  
“Do we have a leader?”  
“Neither does the band but the Steve and Ed ones always steal all the attention from Lord Kevin and tell him what to do.”  
“Moonin and Beakearn always tell us what to do.”  
“And they got picked for the album cover.”  
“Make them do it!”  
“Yeah, they’re our leaders!”

Against their will, two hearnies were pushed to the front of the group and nearly off the table accidentally or otherwise. Beakearn stopped in midair cartoon-style and jumped back onto the table while Moonin, a orange moon-headed man in blue and white, dug his long feet into the table edge and clung on before glaring at the hearnies that had pushed him forward. They were also the two tallest hearnies as they stood before Kevin and waited, Beakearn waving at him in reacquaintance. 

Kevin had been joking but now he had them in front of him, “Um, hey guys.”

“Hey-ya, Lord Kevin,” Moonin responded.

While Kevin went through the rigmarole of, “Just call me ‘Kevin’,” again with over a hundred blushing creatures this time, the other Ladies looked at each other to see if anyone had a clue how to handle this except leave it all to Kevin.

Once the name-thing was sorted out for good, “Are you all here?”

“Yep.” Moonin sounded like Kevin in one of his weird, sloppy-voice moods.

“Good. And you’ve all stopped hassling everyone now?”

“Eh, didn’t seem like you needed it anymore,” Moonin said, turning his little crescent face on the other Ladies for a quick observation.

“But you still need to eat, right?” Kevin asked.

“Unless we go back to our world, yeah.”

Kevin looked about, wondering where his sketchbook had gotten to and remembering it was in his hotel room with his luggage. “Can you go back? The sketchbook was ruined.”

“Wherever you draw  is a portal to our world, L- Kevin,” Beakearn said. “We can go back through anything.”

“Can you come back out though?”

The hearnies looked at each other. The main conglomerate waited on their leaders, despite them having just as little clue. “We don’t know.”

“Is that why you stole the rest of Jim’s energy drink supply?” Kevin guessed, leaning forward on his knees with a knowing smile.

The hearnies shuffled their feet, or equivalent appendages, about awkwardly. “...D-Do you want us to give it back?” Beakearn asked, a child assuming it was being scolded.

Kevin looked to Jim. “Do you?”

Jim shook his head. “Heck, if brings drawings to life it’d be a waste to drink it. Keep it.”

A wave of relief seemed to wash through the crowd of hearnies. Kevin too.

“You’re really going to keep them around, Kevin?” Tyler asked, eyeing the mass up.

“Of course! How could I put them back now?” He reached out, fussing the top of Beakearn’s head with a fingertip. Most of Beakearn’s head turned pink while some other hearnies muttered about favouritism.

“Where are you going to keep them?” Ed asked more practically.

They had cardboard boxes on the bus, ones they brought snacks on with or used for storing rubbish in. Kevin returned with one after a moment, using a pen to scribble out the logo that had been on it before and write ‘Butterscotch Ripple Gang’ on it instead. The hearnies knew to climb in instantly. “And I’ll start paying for their food too,” Kevin said, helping a few of the smaller ones make the leap.

“You don’t have to pay for us, Kevin; we’ll go back into our world,” Beakearn offered.

“I want you out here,” he said simply. “Well, you might have to go back in when I’m on tour but while we’re at home you can run free in my house.”

The other Ladies shared a look again. “Kev...” Kevin looked up from where he now had to hold the box with two hands it was getting so heavy, “they’re drawings.”

“They’re real now.”

Ed looked at the hearnies on the table and the box. They were all looking right at him so he couldn’t say what he wanted to about how kind of creepy there were. Instead, “What if someone sees them?”

“They hid from us for nearly three weeks,” Kevin simply pointed out. Many of the hearnies nodded in agreement.

Ed sighed. He could already see the displeasure rising against the sketchbook culprit that had flooded their world. “You’re going to be like one of those crazy cat people, Kev. I’m not sure they’re meant to live in this world.”

Kevin paused, looking at the brightly-coloured creatures standing out strikingly against the tabletop and cardboard box. He looked around the other human faces in the room, checking their opinions. “...They’ve been fine this long,” he finally said, turning his eyes back down to helping his hearnies into their box. “And I bet you’re all just jealous, that’s what.”

The hearnies supported him with lots of little “Yeah!” proclamations. The last few hurried up and jumped into the box so Kevin could set his little ark on his lap, arms protectively around the edges.

The rest of the band sighed or shrugged, a ‘so long as Kevin’s happy’ response.

Good. In that case, there was only one final person to make happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know what the four named hearnies look like, I once drew them as part of a piece of fanart [you can see here](https://68.media.tumblr.com/c69d68e519544b5eeb535105ddec70cb/tumblr_ouo6pwoZyy1rdspmgo1_1280.jpg) (Left-to-right, the first figure is how Kevin draws himself, Guitil, Bluenin, Beakearn and Moonin)


	9. Chapter 9

“Fin!” Kevin called.

Fin paused then finished quickly with the techie he was currently talking to; Kevin Hearn was carrying a covered cardboard box about the right size for a stray animal and that couldn’t be good news. “All right,” Fin came over, “what do you five want to adopt now?”

Kevin insisted they go somewhere private with a locking door first. This could either mean something likely to escape or something so hideous it would make crew members throw up if they saw it.

The door locked with a click from Jim as Kevin set the box on a table in the spare room. “We found the sugar culprit. And what was messing with all the cables and everyone’s stuff,” Kevin began.

“Does it have a neck I can wring?” Fin asked.

“Well, if you had half an hour to get through all the necks,” Kevin answered.

Now Fin had all kinds of worrying images in his head. Was it a whole litter of whatever it was, or had they actually managed to find a living hydra baby with a vendetta against five Canadian musicians and their touring crew? “This is what caused all the problems?” Fin asked uneasily, watching the spare jacket covering the box for any signs of movement.

“Yep. It was Ed that spilt Jim’s drink on my sketchbook,” Everyone gave Ed a look again, Fin a fresh and full-force glare for causing all this; “don’t worry, I’ll deal with him later,” Kevin added in a rather dark tone for him. “Anyway, the whole spilling incident had a rather interesting... side-effect. And the side-effect wanted Ed to own up so started bothering everyone until he did.”

“And the sugary food?”

“That’s what it eats.”

Fin watched the box again. “...What is it?” He asked because he didn’t dare lift the cover by now.

And God, why was Kevin smirking as he went to?

Kevin’s black jacket slipped off the box, letting light flood back in and cause a lot of little eyes to blink and be rubbed along with some small chattering about the suddenness- Not that they were questioning Lord Kevin’s actions of course!

Fin looked into the box of hearnies. The hearnies looked back up out of the box at Fin. “...Nope. What really did it?”

“My hearnies did!” Kevin insisted.

“‘Hearnies’?” Fin looked around the other four band members, hoping for some sanity. They all met him with shaking heads and nods to listen to Kevin.

“Jim’s vitality drink brought them to life,” Kevin continued. “They wanted to avenge me but without hurting anyone. They’re really smart and strong for their size and live on sugary food only.”

Fin took another look into the box. Then one at Kevin. “You know, I regret ever asking you lot to find out what was causing all this. I think I would have preferred not to know.”

The hearnies started up in their box, bitter mutterings about the Fin one and how his shoelaces should have been tied together too, at least once they were sure the Fin one wasn’t ‘slamming it’ to Lord Kevin, whatever that meant.

“What did they just say about me?!” Fin asked as Kevin gathered the box up into his arms.

“Ask Steve,” Kevin smirked, putting his jacket back over the box opening.

“Oh my God, it was a joke!” Steve insisted. “Can we stop already?! I’ve had all the thinking about Fin and Kevin having sex I can take for a lifetime...”

Fin turned on Steve, Kevin backing him up with a look over Fin’s shoulder.

“Uhh...” Steve looked at the door. “Isn’t it time for soundcheck now?”

“Nice save,” Jim murmured.

“Shut up. You’re the one who was jealous of Fin.”

“I was not!”

“Then what about that game of gay chicken I overheard the other night?” Ed asked.

“...That’s beside the point!”

Fin shared one last look with Kevin. “Do your drawings need a manager?”


	10. Chapter 10

The cardboard box couldn’t fit in Kevin’s bunk; it was too big for that.

Kevin’s back couldn’t take another night on the bus sofas though. His hearnies knew that. “You should sleep in your bunk, L- Kevin,” Beakearn urged as Kevin, sat beside them in the dark of the rolling bus, yawned again.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” Moonin insisted, sat on the back of the sofa and lit from behind with low moonlight. His legs were kicking, though not out of playfulness this time.

The box of other hearnies was lying in the small shaft of moonlight Kevin had let in, wanting to see them. He looked at them, at Moonin sat by his shoulder watching with concern on his strange-shaped face. He turned sadly to his lap, still smiling but struggling to keep his eyes open. “I’m fine. I want to be with you guys more.” Kevin rubbed a hand against his face wearily. “The tour’s nearly over anyway.”

“What are you worried about happening to us?” Beakearn asked quietly.

Kevin shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just I’m the reason you exist; I need to protect you.”

“...Really?” Beakearn asked again.

There was a moment of silence, only the barely noticeable undercurrent of the bus puncturing it. “...What if you disappear?” Kevin finally admitted. “What if I take my eyes off you and you disappear? What if Ed’s right that you’re not meant to be in this world? And if you’re not back in your sketchbook- If I lose you for good-” He stopped. “...I keep thinking how the guys would tell me to just draw more of you, new hearnies.” The back of his hand rubbed against his eyes again. “They don’t understand. They’re not- You’re not- I’m not sane, talking to a bunch of drawings.” Kevin laughed at himself.

The hearnies stayed awkwardly silent.

“Even if I redrew you, it wouldn’t be the same yous anymore,” Kevin continued. “I’m not sure I’m going to make any sense but now you’ve been real, I can’t just put you back and treat you like drawings again. I don’t know what to do with you because something tells me I can’t keep you here but I can’t put you back and I can’t stop obsessing over you until I work out what to do!”

They bowed their heads or turned away at the sound of a slight, sad hitch of breath out of respect.

“You’re right,” Kevin muttered pathetically after a moment. “I need sleep...”

“Kevin...” Beakearn climbed out of the box, dropping to the sofa and walking to the side of Kevin’s thigh. He put his tiny hand on it. “We know what we are, that we’re just drawings. We’re not real people. You don’t have to look after us or do anything for us.”

“Why not? How are you any different to Havana?” Kevin asked. “It was my decisions that led to you existing and now you’re independent beings living your own life. You deserve just as much from me.” His finger crooked, stroking the smooth length of Beakearn’s head gently. “I bet she’ll be really excited to meet you too,” he laughed a little, quietly.

Beakearn’s eyes closed, the movements of the finger rhythmic and soothing. He could have been let it go on forever but he reached up, his small hands gripping Kevin’s forefinger in a gesture which asked it to stop. “You didn’t question your god when He made you suffer, when He couldn’t seem to decide if He wanted to keep you in this world or not. We wouldn’t either.”

Kevin pulled his hand away gently, curling it. They were just black dots but Beakearn’s eyes were staring up at him unwaveringly, occasionally blinking. “...Didn’t question Him? Is that what you think?” Kevin sobered up now, fully awake. “No god should treat his creations like that, make them suffer like that. Or I’m not going to at least.” He picked Beakearn up, having had the practice to do it without hurting him now, and put him back in the box. Guitil had climbed up onto the edge of the box and Kevin’s finger nudged the little, green guitar-fly back in too despite a sad toot from his trumpet nose. Then Kevin turned and reached for Moonin-

“No!” Moonin’s small arm smacked into his fingers, knocking his hand away. The tiny man got to his feet, standing nearly the height of Kevin’s hand. “You think it’s bad inside your sketchbook, that we don’t like it there?” He scowled at Kevin, single eyebrow bent down into a V-shape. “It’s great! You’ve never known such a super world!”

“Really?” Kevin asked.

There was plenty of agreement from the box. “It’s amazing! We love it in there!”

“Is it better than out here?” Kevin suddenly wondered. “Do you want to go back?” Moonin nodded firmly. Kevin watched him for a moment, then gave a single laugh. “You really are made by me; you’re trying to make this easier on me.”

Moonin’s gaze dropped, the guilt of being found out tugging down his overly-long mouth. “Shouldn’t someone else get the hard time for once?”

Kevin chuckled. “‘Hard time’? I get stuff like you guys happening to me!” He grinned, though not without a drawn edge to his smile. “I’d miss you, and you’d miss me.”

Moonin nodded. So did over a hundred other little heads.

Kevin sighed. “But I guess nothing ever works out the way I quite want in my life, even if it all seems to work out for the best in the end.” He cast his eyes away. They fell upon the small table, on the writing pad lying there beside a pen. The pad had half a song on it when he picked it up, something about ninjas. Kevin turned the page. “Do I have to draw anything in particular, like a door or a building for you to go into?”

“Nah. I don’t think so.”

“Okay, just give me a minute...” Kevin set the pen to the page.

A vertical column, a mess of leaves on the top – He made it quick, undetailed; there were trees like that – then a little angled stick and finally a roof on the stick, connected to the trunk: A little lean-to under a tree. “Sorry it’s not in colour,” Kevin said, holding it up for Moonin to see.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it; I’m sure the weather will change tomorrow.” Moonin moved closer, waiting for Kevin to bring it down to his height.

‘Weather’? There was still so much he hadn’t asked – Did the pictures he drew all connect up behind-the-scenes? Did they prefer lined paper or plain? Did it hurt when he used his eraser on them? – but Kevin forced his hand to lower the pad, setting it standing vertical on the back of the sofa just like Moonin.

The little man approached, sizing it up, not looking at Kevin.

Kevin watched without moving, holding the pad steady. “...Goodbye.”

Moonin stopped with his right hand in the page, just a flat, biro outline now. “Goodbye, Kevin.”


	11. Chapter 11

It was Ed that found the empty cardboard box the next morning on the bus, holding it up for the other three.

They found Kevin on-stage helping the crew set up as if he something to make up to them. “Kev?”

Kevin looked up, an unfaltering smile on his face. “Hey, guys.”

“Where’d your... friends go?” Ed decided to call them.

“Oh, them.” Kevin returned to restringing one of Ed’s guitars. “I decided they were better off at home, that’s all.” He patted a sketchbook sitting on a travel case beside him, a brand new one.

“That’s probably for the best,” Ed agreed.

“Yeah, they did eat quite a lot for such little things,” Steve said.

“Personally they creeped me out,” Tyler could finally mention now, giving the sketchbook a suspicious eye.

Kevin’s fingers hadn’t left the sketchbook and now seemed to take hold of it as if possessed, the sketchbook pulling forward through the air to smack Tyler on the forehead. “Oops! Guess they heard you!” Kevin beamed.

Rubbing his head, “Right, sure...” Tyler gave Kevin a suspicious eye.

“Are you going to set them on us if we annoy you again in future?” Jim asked.

“Nah. See?” Kevin opened the sketchbook to a random page, a group of small hearnies playing in a bathtub-like boat of some kind. “Just drawings again.”

Just in case, some of the band members wanted a poke of the page. It didn’t respond or change, leaving them satisfied.

“Well, I’m sorry again, Kev,” Ed apologised yet another time. “I’m glad they’re all okay in the end.”

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Kevin said, that unfaltering smile back on his face.

The other four left him to go get breakfast and their daily orders from Fin. Kevin set the sketchbook down beside him, adding the final two new strings to Ed’s guitar. Once they were snipped and tuned, Kevin placed the Country Gentleman back in its case and hauled it back to the pile.

The pile for tuned instruments yet to be set up was small and out of the way, by the side of the stage behind curtains yet to be lifted into position. No one could see him as Kevin opened his sketchbook back up and smiled properly. “I hope Tyler’s head wasn’t too hard,” he spoke softly.

‘Nah. He’s a soft-boiled egg,’ appeared beside Moonin on the page, his little arms folding as he grinned.

Kevin laughed, watching the words fade and more hearnies crowd onto the page he had opened from around its edges. They were all coming just to see him, and seemed so happy for it. “How’s the weather today?”

‘Gsm’s high, up around 260.’

‘270gsm’ the sticker on the front of the sketchbook said. “Done your daily prayers?” he asked with a little cheek.

The words appeared by Beakearn this time. ‘Shouldn’t you get back to work, _Lord_ Kevin?’

“Okay, okay! Bye, guys.” Hearing footsteps approaching, Kevin shut the sketchbook quickly.

He saw the tiny, orange hand appear from out the side of the shut book though, waving him goodbye.


End file.
